A man of many faces
by beccaleelee
Summary: Ian Rider had many faces. There was the loving guardian, the ruthless warrior, the determined agent. All faces were part of the whole, and none revealed all the truth." Rating may change. Character study.
1. Chapter 1

_This is written because I just had a seven day weekend, so I thought I would (try to) give others the same kind of joy that I have been feeling._

**I accept flames, but only if I deserve them.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.**

Ian Rider had many faces. There was the loving guardian, the ruthless warrior, the determined agent. All faces were part of the whole, and none revealed all the truth.

_The loving guardian: _

When Alex had first come to live with him, Ian had stayed up all night every night, just to watch his nephew sleep. He had stood in the boy's room for hours on end, scarcely daring to blink for fear that his brother's son would stop breathing, would be pulled away from him as his father had been.

When Alex got in his first fight, Ian had simply looked at him for a moment, shook his head slowly, and signed him up for karate. He had know without a doubt that his ward would only have done such a thing in self-defense—it came out several years later that Ian had been wrong in his assumption, but it didn't matter; Alex had done one better and fought in the defense of another.

Ian had known for years that Alex was special, that he had abilities that made him a possible future agent. And so, Ian trained him. He gave the boy the benefit that most spies never received—a lifetime of training. He never meant to be cruel, though some of actions could be mistaken for such (the most obvious example was forcing a child to do all the speaking in foreign countries despite his frustrated tears). He only wanted to protect the last fragments of his shattered family, and if giving Alex extra training could protect him, then Ian would do so, no matter what the short-term consequences.

When Ian was about to die, the last thing to flash before his eyes was not his own life, as all the stories told. Instead, he saw Alex's life. He recalled every smile of the boy, every shared laugh, every fond memory, and the last thing he knew was a rush of affection and love for the one person who had ever breached his defenses.


	2. Chapter 2

_Come on people! Review please!_

**I own nothing recognizable.**

Chapter 2: The ruthless warrior

Ian Rider was a legend in the criminal underworld—no, not a legend. He was the nightmare that woke killers up in the night and left that gripping their weapons nervously, their eyes searching in the shadows for their enemy. He was the terror that infected terrorists and made them double their defenses, praying to a God that they had long ago turned their backs on that _he_ wouldn't be the one sent to stop them. None knew his whole name. None brave enough to admit to knowing his face. Nevertheless, whenever word would reach them of a daring action performed by a shadowy agent that resulted in the death or capture of one of their ranks, they knew that _he _was responsible. And because of this knowledge, they knew that death was preferable.

_The Story of Rider:_

The stories of Rider had started with one man, a George Cadav. He had been a low level mercenary when he witnessed _him_ do the impossible. He and the others—all hired to guard Nathaniel Barker, a soon-to-be political terrorist—had come to know their boss's closest advisor as Carson Keller. They trusted him although they were taught to trust no one, and their boss trusted him with his life. Unfortunately, the red-haired, bespectacled man was not to be trusted.

All the guards had been gathered outside Barker's seventh floor office when they saw Keller approaching. They exchanged greetings with the man, and then waved him through the door. Keller had laughed before holding out his briefcase and a asking if they didn't need to check his bag. Cadav and the others had laughed and told him that it wasn't necessary; after all, he'd been working with Barker for months and hadn't tried to kill him yet.

Keller had shrugged amicably before strolling into the office, shutting the door tightly behind him. He never came out.

The guards waited for a long time, but some sense told Cadav that something was wrong. He hesitated for a moment before reaching around his fellows to knock on the door. The men all waited tensely, shifting from side to side nervously. There was no answer. The most senior guard stepped closer to the door and rapped on it even louder then Cadav had. There was no answer.

It took only a moment to get the door open and step into the room. The first thing they saw was a pile of red hair topped with a pair of glasses lying on the floor. The next thing was Barker's body.

Of course, Cadav had no idea who Keller really was for a long time. Indeed, no one did—it was, after all, Ian Rider's first mission.

But, after many months, Cadav heard a similar story of a likeable man worming his way into the inner workings of an operation before blowing it open. And then another tale of a similar man who appeared out of thin air, taking on a dozen men, and capturing their leader. The same such stories were repeated with minute differences over the years. And no matter how different the whispered events were from Cadav's own experience, he knew in his heart that the man was Keller. And when they learned a name to match the face, they all knew that their nightmares were of Agent Rider.

Unfortunately, they could not find which Rider he was. Not the Doctor Rider, and definitely not the Rider who worked at a bank, but maybe one of the Riders in the military was their man.

_The Death of Rider:_

When word reached the underworld of Ian Rider's death, there were varied reactions.

Most reacted with cheers of joy that their greatest fear and enemy was now dead. They praised the man who had put an end to Rider's reign. They laughed and congratulated themselves on surviving when Rider didn't.

Those who had been near Rider, like Cadav, were merely relieved. Relieved that they could stop looking over their shoulders, waiting for Rider to come back to finish the job.

And still others, those who had stared into _his_ eyes, were afraid again. They were the ones who kept a light on at night, who were too frightened to sleep, who were waiting for death. For they had looked into _his_ eyes, and they knew that they would never have a moment of peace, for even after the man's death he would be there, waiting for a chance at revenge.

_**A/N: Wow this chapter was a lot longer then the last one. Yeah! So, as my reward for writing a longer chapter, leave me more reviews!**_

_**-Becca**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**So, I actually have a good excuse for not posting this sooner. My computer got a virus, so my dad had to rebuild the computer to get rid of it. When he fixed it, I had internet but not Word or anything, so I couldn't type. SORRY!**_

Chapter 3: The Determined Agent

Ian Rider was also famous in the spy community. He was the inspiration for agents in all branches, from MI6 to MI5. He was the James Bond of the real world (minus the STDs).

Ian had rapidly grown into a type of legend, all his accomplishments merging together in the minds of his comrades. It hadn't taken long before the line between fact and myth faded, growing almost invisible.

The one thing that every agent knew about Rider was that he could not be stopped, that he would give up everything for the mission, including his own life, or, more frequently, the lives of others.

_Ian Rider: Mission Two_

It had first happened on Ian's second mission. He had been partnered with a senior agent named Todd Michaels that time—really Ian was just tagging along to take the fall if the other man was captured, but minor details like that never made it into the stories.

It hadn't taken long for the pair to be made, betrayed by a mole in MI6. Michaels had been grabbed first, but Ian had kept moving and managed to get out of the country, return to MI6, and save the day.

That wasn't what had made him famous, though. No, Ian was a legend because of what he _hadn't _done.

Ian Rider had had a single moment of opportunity to save his partner, and hadn't taken it. The retrieval would have risked the success of the missions, and that was a risk that the man refused to take. Ian had done nothing to save Michaels' life, and so, he had watched his partner die.

And so, the legend began.

_The death of Rider:_

When Ian Rider died, none of his fellow agents were completely regretful. They were sorry that such a talented and respected agent was dead; they felt for the man's nephew; they shook their heads sorrowfully and the legends continued to grow.

The stories had long surpassed any semblance of the truth, and they no longer needed the subject to expand. Suddenly, Ian had taken on every criminal in the world and won. Suddenly, he had never been injured, despite all his injuries. Suddenly, Ian shifted from a _lowly_ legend into an unforgettable force, a god that could die in body only, not in spirit.

So, although the agents missed him, they were also relieved. They admired the man, sure—after all, he was the best agent in MI6—but at the same time they always lived with the fear that someday it would be them going out on a mission with him, and it would be them that he left to die.

_**Finis**_


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